


Kiss A Boy Behind A Rosebush

by orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3234020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do Kyungsoo is the new professor in town, and he finds the campus gardener to be just what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss A Boy Behind A Rosebush

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for fic exchange! You can read the original post [here](http://sooheaven.livejournal.com/21751.html).

**Title:** Kiss A Boy Behind A Rosebush  
 **Pairing:** Kyungsoo/Jongin  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word count:** ~ 10,000  
 **Summary:** Do Kyungsoo is the new professor in town, and he finds the campus gardener to be just what he needs.

☀

The new school year has Kyungsoo feeling fairly optimistic; he himself is looking forward to teaching three periods of Korean History and one period of Korean literature, which almost makes up for the mind-numbing selection process he has to go through to enter the university. His tie is a soothing kind of red that isn't eye catching but fairly presentable, and his suit perfectly hangs on his shoulders. His briefcase is as immaculate as his shoes as he drops off the bus to get to work. He stops at the marvelous view of the big hedge with clusters of climbing roses before going in through the gates.

Whatever the case is, Kyungsoo is confident that things are going to go smoothly for him. Therefore, he isn't prepared when the first thing that greets him is a sheet on the noticeboard saying that the faculty should head towards the auditorium. Kyungsoo looks around in alarm, hoping he could ask anyone for directions.

Since it's an hour too early for the angst-driven students to swarm the campus for another day of learning, the university is almost a ghost town. Kyungsoo roams the grounds for a campus map.

He then spots a man in a denim jumper and a green shirt crouched on the ground. He has a pail and a shovel in hand, and there's sweat dribbling from the back of his neck. Kyungsoo clears his throat.

"Umm, excuse me? Hello?" Kyungsoo calls.

The man doesn't seem to have heard him. Kyungsoo inches closer and taps his shoulder. "Excuse me, sir?"

The man yelps in surprise. A small globule of mud streaks the lens of Kyungsoo's spectacles. The stranger gapes at him for a second, dumbfounded, then pulls back his head in quiet laughter.

"Sorry," he says, amused. "I'd love to help you out but…" He shows his gloved hands covered in filth.

Kyungsoo frowns. He unpockets his handkerchief and cleans his glasses. "That's fine. You can help me with something else. Where's the auditorium?"

"Third building to your right, top floor." The man eyes him up and down. "New hire?"

Kyungsoo nods stiffly.

"Figures. Your shoes look new," the guy grins. He stretches out his hand without thinking, and Kyungsoo stares at it openly.

"Oh yeah, right," he laughs easily. "Kim Jongin. Nothing important. Just a gardener. And you are?"

"Do Kyungsoo. I'll be teaching history."

"Ahh."

Kyungsoo gives him a polite smile and cocks his head towards the east. "I should be going now; don't want to be late on the first day."

The man – Jongin – checks his watch. Kyungsoo notices his forearms look nice against the sun. "They're not going to be in there for at least half an hour. Secure the middle seat at the back row, if you're willing to wait. It’s the best seat."

Kyungsoo bows in gratitude and hurries immediately. Despite what Jongin the gardener had told him, Kyungsoo always likes being on time, even if it meant he'd be the only person in the venue for the next thirty minutes.

The auditorium fills in easily afterwards. People loiter about in cliques, catching up and gossiping. Kyungsoo knows only a handful: Kim Boyeon, the nurse who assisted him with his medical; Go Namseon, head of the social sciences department; Shin Hyeji, head of Arts and Literature. He hopes that there would be a few new faces too, but before Kyungsoo could ask around, a district official comes forward, dutifully calling for everyone's attention.

"Thank you and welcome back," the official intones. "All right, let's get started, shall we? First things first –"

"What's up with your slacks?"

Kyungsoo whirls around. A slight man in a well-ironed polo shirt and a bold orange necktie is looking at the hint of mud that has crusted itself on his black slacks. Kyungsoo reddens, silently picking at it with the other end of his pen.

The man chuckles. "I see you've met our school's talented and eccentric gardener." 

"How did you –"

"You're new, which explains the almost flawless suit, and you're the first one to arrive here; so judging from the sudden announcement and the disappointing dash of dirt on your trousers, you got lost and asked for directions, specifically to Kim Jongin, who I suspect has been digging around the lot earlier this morning like he always does every start of the school year."

Kyungsoo blinks.

"Amazing, right?" The man grins at him and holds out his hand. "Byun Baekhyun. Philosophy and Mathematics."

Kyungsoo takes it warily. The handshake is firm. "Do Kyungsoo. History, Government, Literature."

"Looks like we're going to have a team-building activity later on today," Baekhyun gripes. "Bad planning all around – just when we're all still pissy that summer's over and all the kids are swearing at us behind our backs after bombarding them with homework on the first day. Too bad the new superintendent likes going by the manual."

"I didn't get that," Kyungsoo says, voice small. "I mean, nobody told me that."

"They usually decide and announce things in the last minute. Sucks, but you gotta live with it. Just keep your trap shut and go with the flow; you'll end up staying on the payroll list by the end of the semester."

Kyungsoo nods, somewhat grateful for the advice, but what Baekhyun said earlier is still bothering him. "Talented and eccentric?"

"Oh," Baekhyun glances at him sideways. "You mean Jongin?"

"Yeah." If Kyungsoo looks back on it, the man he met earlier doesn't strike him as talented _or_ strange. Probably a little bit on the latter side (the guy kept on grinning like a boy who snorted candy for a living), but nothing unusual enough for Kyungsoo to peg him as either.

"Did you see that hedge on the entrance? The one looking like a tall thorn-bush with white roses scattered all over?"

Yes, Kyungsoo did. As a matter of fact, it took him a while to leave the entrance gate once he disembarked the bus. Kyungsoo had admired the puffy flowers that adorned the walls of tiny, spiraling leaves, creamy as marshmallows. The high rise has accentuated the landscape of the campus, giving it an other-worldly feeling. Kyungsoo felt like he was entering a royal palace rather than a small private university in Korea. "He did that? All by himself?"

"As I've said, _talented_ ," Baekhyun then sighs. "I don't think the university pays him enough, but he they did gave him a place to stay. He never leaves campus."

"But why is he..."

"Weird?" Baekhyun finishes for him. "Well, geniuses do have their own quirky idiosyncrasies – I guess it takes a guy to know a guy." He sizes up Kyungsoo again with a knowing look on his face. "And somehow, you don't strike me as that, Kyungsoo-ssi."

Kyungsoo's forehead creases. "What?"

"You seem sort of plain. To me, that is."

"... Plain?"

"Never had an adventure? Never took a pow-wow road trip to Far and Rocky?"

"No," Kyungsoo grudgingly admits. He's been called a lot worse than 'plain', but he doesn't know why Baekhyun's words are causing some sort of caustic reaction in his stomach. Perhaps it's because there's a lot of truth in his statement, and it's too sharp of a reminder of how his life is way too... boring. 

Kyungsoo sighs. He hates that he can't deny that awful fact. "Okay, maybe I'm no daredevil. Do we need to establish that?"

Baekhyun hangs his on Kyungsoo's shoulders, replying with a quick smile, "That's why you _need_ to be paired off with me later at the team-building. We'd hit it off, you and me."

"I don't think we will," Kyungsoo grumpily answers.

Baekhyun guffaws unabashedly. "Or you could pair yourself with Kim Jongin and water the tulips, but since he's not part of the official faculty they might dock you a couple of points. That doesn't sound good, does it?"

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. He thinks he'd rather be stuck mowing the lawn of the whole campus than do trust exercises with Baekhyun.

☀

So far folks had been nice, and the few staff members Kyungsoo had met already are kind. The only drawback is cleaning out the former history professor's storage closets, which are beyond disgusting, and the dust that coated the cabinets is probably already a decade old. Mr. Kang doesn't seem to be a man who is too concerned with cleanliness, and twice Kyungsoo considers calling the janitor (or the gardener) for help, but quickly dismisses the idea. As a starting employee, he has to do it alone.

Still, Mr. Kang left behind a lovely classroom, with huge windows and stone floors. Kyungsoo absolutely loves the way the light fills it entirely.

After that are the classes. The schedule takes some getting used to; Kyungsoo finds he has a little trouble ending his lessons before the bell, but the students here are accommodating and, on the whole, much nicer than his previous ones. He glances through the window and his soul jumps out of his body when he realizes that there's a familiar-looking man lurking outside, his arms pressed onto the window pane.

"Umm," Kyungsoo starts unsurely. "Hi?"

"It's great that you're having classes on the first floor," Jongin comments, smiling. "I'm liking the view."

Before Kyungsoo can formulate a proper response, Jongin adds, "Getting the hang of it, I see."

"I will, eventually," Kyungsoo exhales. "Even though the bells –"

At that precise moment, the one over his doorway rings with bone-jarring shrillness and Kyungsoo nearly jumps in surprise. Jongin is biting back a laugh; he doesn't say anything, but the mirth in his eyes is apparent.

"– Still make you flinch, yeah," he finishes with a straight face. "I see."

"It's not that I scare easily," Kyungsoo mutters under his breath. "They're loud enough to resemble nails scratching the blackboard, in case you haven’t noticed."

"Going by that scale, sure, but it's a necessary evil when most of the students are going deaf from iPod use.”

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Had fun at the team-building?"

Kyungsoo struggles to fight back a grimace. That first day had been a grueling mess of piggy back rides and muted curses. His hand unconsciously flies to the small of his back. For his small frame, Baekhyun is exceptionally heavy. "It was... interesting."

"Was it?" There's a gleam in Jongin's eyes that he cannot fathom. "Usually they hold that activity off for a few months so that the new ones could handle being thrown to the wolves.”

“They said we have a new superintendent,” Kyungsoo supplies, and the other nods in understanding.

Jongin pops his lips. “This year is going to suck then. I’ll see you around? Hopefully with your eardrums still intact?”

Kyungsoo smiles dryly. “I’ll do my best.”

Jongin waves before leaping off of the panel he’s been standing on, instantly disappearing out of sight.

☀

Kyungsoo makes his way through the halls of the administration building, all the while wishing he could change out of his suit. It’s been a few weeks since he’s started, but the whole uniform feels uncomfortable on so many levels. He’s sure that none of the instructors or even long-time professors of the academe is allowed to trudge all over campus in their sweats, but still. The tension that the coat and the tie around his neck bring is stifling. 

The room labeled 1000 looms ahead, and Kyungsoo pushes the metal double doors into the office, looking around. The whole room seems empty. Kyungsoo sits on a nearby couch and waits for a clerk or someone to come by.

“May I help you?” A nice-looking lady finally arrives and breaks through his short reverie, and Kyungsoo clears his throat.

“I just wanted to ask why my employment profile is still being held up,” Kyungsoo requests. “I thought I’ve passed all the necessary requirements.” He provides her his name, his previous employer, and his social security number, and the clerk types it all down on her keyboard with a noisy _tick_.

He watches as her eyebrows furrow in bewilderment. She then stands up from her reclining chair and says, “Please wait here for a moment, sir.”

Time passes. Kyungsoo tries to occupy his thoughts with lesson plans and coordinating his grocery list, but his mind keeps on redirecting elsewhere. There are a number of questions that still need answering since he’d left his former employ. Even though he’d gone out of his way to rent a house at the corner of the town and cautiously made his way around, Kyungsoo is antsy. It’s like nothing much has changed.

“Do Kyungsoo-ssi,” a voice cuts through his thoughts again. Kyungsoo glances up to see that it’s the clerk. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to talk to the superintendent upstairs. Kim Junmyeon-ssi’s room is 4005.”

“Kim Junmyeon?” Kyungsoo repeats, a pang of irritation welling up in him. “Junmyeon is the new superintendent?”

“Are you well-acquainted with him, sir?”

“I guess so,” Kyungsoo responds in a dark tone. He bows and exits the admin room before taking the stairwell.

Kyungsoo sighs deeply. He knows this is inevitable. He knows Junmyeon had been so used to getting what he wanted and keeping it to himself for so long that the break-up had probably upset him. Even Kyungsoo is guilty of not being able to let go of things so easily, after all.

He reluctantly slides open the door and is instantly greeted by a pretty receptionist. “Are you Do Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo says he is, and the woman instructs, “Can you wait for a few minutes? Junmyeon-ssi is still on the phone right now.”

“It’s fine,” is what Kyungsoo replies, even though it’s far from what he’s feeling right now. He knows that Junmyeon is just stalling, making him wait so that the Kyungsoo’s annoyance would build up until he finally blows a gasket. He forces himself to sit down and look calm.

The receptionist waves to get his attention, gesturing for him to go inside the office. Kyungsoo straightens his coat, carefully stepping inside the office.

And there he is: carefully poised on his sleek mahogany table is Kim Junmyeon, the new superintendent. He rises from his seat and comes over to Kyungsoo, hands outstretched wide, then envelops him with a hug that lasted too long for Kyungsoo to deem appropriate.

“Oh, Kyungsoo! It’s been a long time! How are you?”

“Why are you withholding my papers?” Kyungsoo seethes. “The admin is giving me flack for you not turning it over on time.”

“Is that so?” Junmyeon asks. “You know transfer papers take a long time to process.”

“But you’re doing it on purpose. I need my employment background cleared in order for me to get a paycheck, Junmyeon, and I’ve only started. I can’t afford to be on probation. Where are they?”

Junmyeon makes an act of checking his watch. “Tell you what – how about if we settle this thing over lunch? And maybe after we can take my car for a joyride around town, maybe drop-off to that old university you’ve been teaching in –“

“No thanks. I have class right after. I just want you to take this seriously.”

“I always take you seriously,” Junmyeon practically purrs. “You know that.”

Kyungsoo manages to pull a frosty smile. “Don’t make me turn this into litigation, Junmyeon. You know I’ve been through that area many times.”

The superintendent places a hand on his shoulders, but Kyungsoo shakes them off angrily. Junmyeon sighs. “I didn’t mean to hurt you when I said I wanted a little more… excitement. You know that.”

Kyungsoo scowls. _Now_ he brings it up. “I wasn’t hurt. I was _offended_. And thanks for making me realize that your head never strayed too far from the bedroom, Junmyeon. Saved me a few good years of torture.”

“No need to get pushy, Kyungsoo,” he warns. 

“You’ve never seen me go all the way,” Kyungsoo warns. “Let me repeat myself: there’s no reason for my papers to be delayed.”

Junmyeon slowly steps away from him and puts the phone’s receiver to his ear, talking with a cool voice, “Yoon Seong-ssi? Yes, have the seal locked on Do Kyungsoo-ssi’s files, please. Yes, thank you.” He hangs up and turns to Kyungsoo. “Happy now?” he says spitefully.

“Yes,” Kyungsoo agrees easily. He bows. “Thank you.”

Junmyeon runs a hand through his hair. “How’s the job? Students driving you crazy yet?”

“I like it just fine.”

“If you want to go back, you know I could –“

“That’s generous but no,” Kyungsoo scoffs. He stops himself from storming out of the room, knocking all the doors down with flair, and instead strides of the office coolly with as much self-restraint he could muster. Once outside, he supposes he could rip out all the posters hanging out of the corkboard just for petty revenge, and he laughs to himself angrily as he does.

☀

Kyungsoo wakes up at the sudden screech of a door, a paper sticking to his cheek. He’d been trying to lose himself over Shin Donghyuk’s biography and hadn’t succeeded, making him accomplish all the papers he had to mark that aren’t even due for two weeks. In the process, he fell asleep, and was suddenly plucked off from the clouds by a disturbing noise coming from the hall.

It’s dark outside. He blanches as he turns to look at the wall clock and sees the short and the long hands pointing to _8_ and _45_ respectively. He wonders if the gates are still open and packs his things.

Kyungsoo looks both ways before standing out of the doorway. The hall is empty, and there doesn’t seem to be anybody lurking around the corridors. Despite this, Kyungsoo tiptoes out from his classroom and shuts the door behind without a sound. He pulls back his glasses that kept on slipping down his nose.

He’s already out of the building when he hears another ear-splitting shriek of metal, and this time, Kyungsoo is sure it’s coming out from the orchard outside. His heart thumping triple time, Kyungsoo strays from the path and forges ahead, his curiosity getting the better of him.

The hollow shuddering rushes round and round again. Kyungsoo grasps on the strap of his suitcase tightly as he walks.

Kyungsoo sees a flash of light coming from the pit of the orchard. He readjusts his glasses and sees Jongin carrying a flashlight on one hand and a rake on the other. The beam then shoots to Kyungsoo’s direction, and he stifles a gasp, hiding behind a nearby tree trunk. Kyungsoo steadies his breathing before he allows himself to peek again, only to find that Jongin has disappeared without a trace.

He shudders. What is Jongin doing out there?

The hairs on Kyungsoo’s arm stand up from the static in the air, and suddenly a lightning flares across the sky, followed by a roar of thunder. It looks like he’s not going to find out tonight. “That’s enough adventure for one day, Kyungsoo,” he murmurs before walking off into the night.

☀

Kyungsoo would be lying if he said that the shrill cry he heard from the corridor didn’t bother him. It did, and poor Jongin had been bewildered when the professor outright ignored his happy greeting first thing in the morning. For the next two weeks, Kyungsoo had ducked his head at the slightest sound of muddy boots squeaking on the walkway of Building 1A, and pointedly dismissed Jongin’s attempts of making conversation with him.

He rationalizes that it’s for the best. He can’t be caught associating with someone who _could_ be doing something bad in the middle of the night. He can’t afford to get sacked just when he’s getting used to teaching in a university with only four hundred kids as the whole student population. And besides, if Junmyeon found out, he would never hear the end of it. Kyungsoo tries to ignore the uncomfortable twitch in his heart.

It’s especially hard for him today. Earlier, Jongin had been leaf blowing the dried foliage that accumulated in the gutters, and happened to pass by the large window where Kyungsoo teaches Government. He had been discussing about how the National Assembly passes and vetoes bills until he got distracted by the state of Jongin’s hair. His brown locks were tussled up from the rush of hot air coming from the leaf blower, and Kyungsoo hates it, hates how messy it is. He wants to run his hands through it so much it’s driving him nuts.

Jongin is eerily handsome, Kyungsoo acknowledges to himself wryly, but he’s definitely sure the nervousness he feels whenever the man is near is nothing physical. Kyungsoo surmises that it must be because he’s caught Jongin doing something questionable that night. Two weeks is a long time for Kyungsoo to be harboring suspicions and he feels uneasy.

So he decides to come clean and stays behind campus even after the dismissal bell has sounded. He waits until it’s almost nine in the evening and is instantly gratified by the same screeching sound he heard the night before. Kyungsoo uses the backdoor – the shortest way to the orchard.

A gust of wind rushes down the walkway, a little bit stronger than before thanks to the changing seasons. It’s strong enough to weave branches of the trees in the orchard, and it’s more than strong enough to sway the trailing stems of ivy hanging on a trellis. Kyungsoo takes off his glasses to rub his eyes, then puts it back on. It’s still there; behind the stream of vines is a knob of a door. 

He puts his hand on the knob and twists. It’s unlocked. Kyungsoo’s heart pumps in excitement. What will he see if he opens the door?

Kyungsoo takes a long breath and looks behind him, watching the winding path to see if anyone is coming. No one seems to be coming any time soon, and he takes another long, deep breath, pushing back the door until it opens completely.

He staggers inside as his knees wobble when the door shuts loudly behind him. There’s a soft orange glow at the end of the horrid corridor, and Kyungsoo can hear his raspy breathing echoing. He lets his hand graze the walls, like he’s leaving a trail.

Slowly, Kyungsoo reaches the end. His shoes touch the rich soil underneath, and Kyungsoo’s breathing runs ahead of him. The high walls chamber the mysterious-looking place, with leafless stems of climbing roses matting together all around the room. There are a few clumps of grass growing at random, rose-bushes spreading at the corners and huddling together like they’re alive. He gets a whiff of wet leaves and cow manure.

Jongin is standing beside a small wooden head post. 

“Hi,” Jongin says. His lips are pulled back into a toothy grin. “Finally. I was wondering when you’d come in.”

☀

The light from the preinstalled incandescent bulbs makes Kyungsoo dizzy. Everything is strange and silent except for his and Jongin’s warm breathing, and it seems to Kyungsoo that they’re more than a hundred miles away from the university. 

“Should I give you a bib? You’re drooling,” Jongin chuckles, unlatching the straps of his suspenders from his shoulders. He lets it fall off his side and tends to the flowerbed.

Kyungsoo closes his mouth. “You’re… not a murderer?”

Jongin stops his pruning and turns sideways to look at him with a blank expression. For a second, Kyungsoo freezes, thinking that he’s somehow offended the person, until Jongin’s face breaks into a long, booming laugh. 

Jongin wipes tiny darts of happy tears leaking from his eyes. “Although I’d love to hear how you got that crazy idea, can you lend me a hand and pass me those shears?”

“Me?”

“Yes, Mr. Detective. The one next to the snowdrops.”

Kyungsoo comforts himself by throwing angry glares at Jongin’s back before striding over to the rows of unplanted seedlings. He hands him the rusty shears with a frown. “I can’t believe I’m here on campus in the middle of the night and followed you all the way down here, only to see you mucking up an empty dungeon – and what the hell is this place?”

“It’s my secret lair,” Jongin replies smoothly. “This is where I chop off the bodies before I load them in my yacht and dispose them in the Han River.”

Kyungsoo gapes at him. “Are you – “

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Jongin laughs, winking at him. He dunks his hand on a bag of fertilizer and spreads it all over the flower bed. “I can’t believe you’re accusing me of killing people, of all things. You know, I was voted as the friendliest maintenance guy for three years running.”

“I _saw_ you,” Kyungsoo says weakly; even to his ears, Kyungsoo knows he sounds foolish. He can’t believe he’s been raised by two of the most successful lawyers in Seoul and here he is, quick to jump to conclusions without conclusive evidence. He crouches next to Jongin. “I saw you coming in here all sneaky-like and heard you making horrible screechy noises. I thought you were doing something shady.”

The other man raises his head. “Ahh, so that’s why you’ve been refusing to talk to me all this time.” He stabs the soil with his spade repeatedly. “I thought you hated my guts,” Jongin mumbles.

Kyungsoo eyes him like he just grew another head. “That’s absurd! Why would I –“

Jongin’s small smile disarms him. He shrugs. “The important thing is I’m not a serial killer or anything like that. I saw you following me a while ago, so I left the door unlocked. But keep this a secret, alright? I don’t want anyone – especially the board – to know about this.”

“Why not? You’re doing everyone a favor by refurbishing an old whatever-this-is into a paradise.”

“This place has been closed off from students and the faculty for students for decades,”Jongin expounds. “Like, two hundred percent off-limits. Technically, I’m vandalizing school property and I could be fired for it.”

Kyungsoo pauses, his mind not totaling everything that he’s said. “Then,” he asks slowly, “Why are you doing this? Why go through all the trouble?”

“You’re a professor, right?”

He nods, and Jongin gestures at him.

“That’s your answer,” Jongin tells him. “You won’t understand.”

Kyungsoo stiffens. He makes a face at Jongin before standing up to full height. “I’ll keep this a secret,” he promises irately. “But I’m keeping myself out of this.”

He trudges back to the cold tunnel and slams the creaky door behind him. Kyungsoo dashes through the orchard, his face red, and thinks that it’s fruitless to turn around; he knows Jongin’s not going after him anyway.

☀

It’s peaceful outside with the cool autumn night and the small waning moon, but Kyungsoo can’t help but pace back and forth in front of the rusty old door swathed with ivy for the third consecutive night. He shoots the offending metal with a bright glare, hot and furious, before shutting down completely, covering his face with his hands and muffling a groan.

_You’re a professor, right? You won’t understand._

“What the hell did that mean?” Kyungsoo thinks out loud. He can’t believe he’d lost sleep over Jongin’s cryptic little statement. And even after he had kept his mouth shut and no word about Jongin’s secret garden had gotten out of the lot, Kyungsoo hadn’t heard a single ‘thank you’ or even a nod of acknowledgement from the other man.

Ungrateful jerk.

When Kyungsoo has finally convinced himself that there’s no use waiting for an answer, he slips inside the alcove. He stops when he arrives at the mouth of the tunnel, where the grass is starting to stick out of the black earth.

There’s already been a significant change ever since Kyungsoo first came inside. There are already tiny daffodils growing amongst the rose bushes, and the fresh scent of snowdrops is coloring the air. The climbing vines had been ripped out of the trellis and now a clear view of the moon can be seen from the inside. It seema like Jongin sees him first before Kyungsoo sees him, and he’s standing with his arm half-dipped in a pail full of water, watching him with vague amusement.

“Changed your mind?” Jongin teases.

Kyungsoo decides to cut to the chase. “What is it that I don’t understand? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh.” Jongin ponders about it for a moment. “What I meant to say is that I can’t explain myself to you by books, or logic, or hard facts.” He shrugs. “It’s just simple, really. I don’t believe that all the things in here are dead, so I decided to recreate this garden myself.”

Kyungsoo stops. “Wait, this _used_ to be a garden?”

“Uh-huh,” Jongin grunts. He bends down to sprinkle the flowers with water. “It used to be the director’s garden fifteen years ago, but it caught fire and destroyed almost half of the orchard. The whole orchard was rebuilt and replanted with trees, but this place remained untouched. I don’t know why, but it’s a waste, don’t you think? This place has a lot of potential.”

Although Kyungsoo can’t see it, he nods as if he agrees. “So, is this some sort of gratification for you? To make flowers grow out of stone walls?”

“Yep,” Jongin says brightly. “And can you give me a hand with the wire net, please?”

He looks at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

When Jongin shakes his head, Kyungsoo sighs heavily. He walks over the sacks of mulch and grabs the other end of the thin net of galvanized iron. He watches as Jongin presses down the stakes onto the ground and wraps the end of the net around it, securing it with a twist wire. He does the same with the left end, snipping and securing it. Jongin heads to Kyungsoo’s side and plants another stake onto the earth, holding up and fastening the net until it covered the row of seedlings below.

“Thanks. Wasn’t that fun?” Jongin beams.

Kyungsoo shrugs. He can feel the sweat dripping on his back – he could at least use the exercise.

He then squeaks when Jongin grabs his right hand abruptly. “You’re bleeding,” Jongin whispers, showing him the thin line of blood trickling across his palm.

“Must be from the net,” Kyungsoo guesses and makes a move to take his hand back, only to be tugged across the room by Jongin. He kicks away the trowel and ushers Kyungsoo to sit on the small mat, all the while rummaging through a broad stainless steel canister.

“You have a medicine kit?”

“Every eagle scout needs one,” Jongin says in a dry tone, picking up a small bottle and a pad of gauze. He makes quick work with Kyungsoo’s palm, cleaning the wound with rubbing alcohol. “You have soft hands,” he comments. Kyungsoo can’t tell if he’s teasing him or not. “City boy?”

Kyungsoo makes a face. “My parents never made me do any work. They said I should just study.”

“Mhhmm.” Jongin centers the gauze and takes out a tape from the canister. He cuts it off with the edge of his teeth. “Any siblings?”

“One brother. He’s a hotshot lawyer in Myeongdong.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Jongin smirks. “Teaching kids who don’t want to be taught – it’s a novelty.”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “You haven’t met my parents. They clearly think I’m the disappointing one out of the pack – I can only teach stuff and not put it into practice.”

“I don’t think that. You just had the true calling for teaching; it’s you, and to be honest your enthusiasm in your vocation is quite rare among your colleagues. You’re brilliant and funny and well-liked,” Jongin squeezes his fingers gently. “I think you’re far from disappointing.”

Kyungsoo has to pause at that and looks down, fighting down the desire to grin ridiculously wide at the pointed ends of his shoes. 

“Besides,” Jongin continues a little too quickly, as if trying to cover up for how his previous statement might have sounded. “If they can’t respect your wishes, it’s their loss. We live in a new age, anyway.”

He glances up and smiles at Jongin gratefully, albeit a little shyly. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“No problem.” He lets go of Kyungsoo’s hand and stands up.

“So,” Kyungsoo starts, studying Jongin’s small piece of patchwork intently. “Umm, is it okay for me to drop by once in a while? Just in case you needed a second opinion, maybe? I won’t tell a soul, I promise.”

Jongin turns to meet his eyes. His tan skin is glistening against the lights beautifully, and it’s almost too painful for Kyungsoo to look at. “Maybe not just a second opinion. You saw me before. I can’t do this all by myself. Maybe I’ll need you.”

☀

As the sun shines down on the garden, Kyungsoo and Jongin are going their separate ways, the former teaching Korean history while the latter is tending the honeysuckles across Building 3A. Nearly every week they walk past each other at the path near the entrance gates, sharing nothing but the same discrete smile.

When the moon is up on Friday and there’s a fine layer of dust spreading through the night air, Kyungsoo sheds his suit and tie, wears a black shirt, ratty tatty jeans and pair of shoe shufflers and heads to the garden. Kyungsoo used to refer to it as Jongin’s garden since it is more appropriate, proprietarily speaking, but Jongin had insisted on not naming it all since it would _‘take away all the magic’_.

“You’ve worked hard on it too, anyway,” Jongin had countered. “It’s not right for me to take all the credit.”

So, with equal, grudging consent, they both refer to it as The Garden. In retrospect, Kyungsoo thinks it’s not a bad decision after all. It’s a simple name.

Once in a while, they’d laugh and poke fun at how dirty they look. Sometimes Kyungsoo would recount how his day went and rant about some infuriating faculty member he wants to strangle in thirty different ways, and sometimes he’d be the one doing the listening while Jongin would tell him about his life in the country, how he steeled his heart and left home, took his chances in the city. There are days when they’d get to the deep, personal stuff: ambitions, disappointments, worst fears. After those long and heavy conversations especially, Kyungsoo would be leaving the tunnel with a throbbing leg and a quivering heart.

Kyungsoo works up to the brim, digging and pulling up weeds as steadily as he goes, becoming more pleased with himself as small sprouts of green color the once barren earth. He helps Jongin unload the wheelbarrow and gets to the grit, toiling. 

The silence that falls between them is comfortable, and up until this moment, Kyungsoo hasn’t realized that he’s missed this, just having someone to be with. Given that landscaping isn’t exactly the most exciting thing Kyungsoo can ever think of, as compared to boozing and other shenanigans people do during Friday nights, being with Jongin makes him feel happy and light and whole. 

“I know I’ve never said it before,” Jongin offers after a quiet moment. “But thanks. Thanks for coming. For the company.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes then chuckles. “It’s either this or another weekend of midterm exams to check.”

“That sounds… pleasant.”

“You tell me: I’m going to be inhaling twelve pots of coffee to get through all of those stacks of essay papers. Cross your fingers that I won’t pass out.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jongin rubs the tip of his nose with the back of his hand, the way he usually does when he doesn’t want to talk about something. “But you really don’t have to put on the extra hours for this. You might get into trouble.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I know that, but I chose you in the end, didn’t I?” 

Jongin doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t worry about it, Jongin.” Kyungsoo gives him a smile. “I like it here.”

Jongin whips his head, jaw slack. His eyes look dumbfounded. “Say that again.”

“Say what again?” he asks.

Jongin’s face reddens considerably. “You’ve never said my name before,” he explains, sounding a little bit sheepish. 

“Oh,” Kyungsoo rechecks himself and thinks. “Sorry. I guess I haven’t.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t hesitate to call me by my name again next time.”

Kyungsoo cracks a small smile. “Hey, in my defense you haven’t said my name yet either – not that I was keeping tabs but –“

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin says, his voice deep and throaty. It sends a sudden tide of unknown emotion so large that it washes Kyungsoo over. The crest makes him drop his smile in shock.

Kyungsoo instinctively shifts his focus on the other’s face, and it isn’t surprising when Jongin bridges the gap between them and lets his head fall so that their foreheads meet – maybe it is surprising, a little bit, but strangely, Kyungsoo isn’t bothered by it. What bothers him is that their lips are so painfully _close_ – it’s almost like Jongin is breathing him in, chasing after the sound of his name on Kyungsoo’s lips. 

“Do Kyungsoo,” Jongin whispers against his mouth. Kyungsoo clenches his fist. Maybe this is a mistake, but his brain suddenly fails to make sense of the situation as he feels his consciousness slowly seep away. 

He lets his hand drift up to rest on Jongin’s cheek, and Jongin dips. Kyungsoo allows the kiss to go where it wants to, his mouth languidly moving back and forth to caress Jongin’s soft lips. He feels his knees turn into jelly as soon as Jongin sets his tongue to graze his lower lip, then his upper lip, tasting him, kissing the slight curvatures and the corners of his mouth.

They sink onto the earth, and Kyungsoo holds his breath for as long as possible. Jongin’s weight then steadily dips to his side, so Kyungsoo grabs a fistful of his shirt and tugs slowly, deliberately, and Jongin gets the hint. Kyungsoo lets his legs spread apart until Jongin can spread himself out on top of him, chests rubbing against each other. Kyungsoo cranes his neck to keep his mouth on Jongin’s, hopelessly tugging on his plush, bottom lip.

It’s all slow, all soft, urging noises. His fingers are entangled on Jongin’s hair, his neck smelling rich and damp and floral. Kyungsoo can feel the hint of Jongin’s erratic heartbeat on his chest, and if he’s not too preoccupied with the feel of Jongin’s mouth pressing on his neck, then it would’ve struck him as odd that being here, kissing Kim Jongin while they’re surrounded by rose bushes and daffodils, is the happiest he’s been in a long time.

☀

The whole _catching-up-to-what-happened-last-night_ is a slow, somewhat painful process. Kyungsoo thinks that his brain is not in the liberty to make him recall everything immediately – like wading through murky, waters, Kyungsoo has no memory of the specifics at the moment, but he can get a good grasp of the general idea; and that’s the painful part.

After finally waking up at ten o’ clock on a Saturday morning, pummeling his way through thousands of words and inking them down with his trusty red pen, Kyungsoo feels the heat assault his face. 

It’s coming back now, the details of the intense make-out session with Jongin last night, every single inch of them making him flustered. By now, Kyungsoo is too embarrassed to even see his name on a test paper, only hearing Jongin’s chocolate voice bouncing back and forth inside his cranium. He closes his eyes and exhales loudly.

Friend’s don’t kiss each other like that.

Kyungsoo swings his legs off of the chair and heads straight back to bed again. He feels sick.

☀

“Sorry,” Jongin apologizes blearily, his chin nested on top of his knees. “It’s totally my fault for pushing myself on you.”

Kyungsoo sighs. “Still guilty. I uh… kissed you back,” he flashes him an awkward grin. “We’re consenting adults, but it’s mostly my fault. I’m sorry, Jongin. I’d just been into a messy break up and I think I kinda missed having someone. You understand, right?”

Jongin laughs shakily. “Of course,” he says.

Kyungsoo inclines his head to face him. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Although I never would have pegged Kim Junmyeon as your type.”

“Me neither,” Kyungsoo laughs a little. “I guess I got a little carried away with everything else.”

“Carried away,” Jongin murmurs, standing up. He dusts off the dried mud on his jeans, pulling his legs and stretching them.

They work in silence. The semestral break has almost begun, and the garden is almost finished. Uniform brown pots line the trail heading to the entrance, and a lush carpet of chicken grass are now entirely covering the dull floor. Long tendrils snake through the outstretched branches of the wooden spikes Jongin had installed, with the roses protruding their petals in different angels. 

Kyungsoo turns to him and speaks, “Hey. I really don’t have anything to do this break. Should I drop by and help out?”

To his surprise, Jongin shakes his head. “I think you should sit out on this one, Kyungsoo. I think I can handle it.”

“Really? But the –“

“It’s fine,” Jongin replies, uncharacteristically brusque, before rearranging his features to form a bright smile. “You should take a break. Go see some other stuff for a while.”

“… Okay.” Kyungsoo ascents sullenly, frowning. Before he can confirm whether he really heard something else from Jongin’s voice, the other man had already turned his back on him, whistling as he prunes the bushes.

☀

Kyungsoo already has his eyes open before his alarm goes off. He peels off his blankets and zooms straight for the bathroom, his jaw slack and his forehead drenched in perspiration. He can almost hear the mirror shriek in fear at his appearance, dark circles under his half-lidded eyes, hair electrified and sticking at all directions.

He had been up until two am rearranging his things, double-checking if he missed some papers to grade or forgot to put in the newsletter draft he has to hand in to the supervisor. He went to bed at three am but never got a wink of sleep. His mattress felt unusually stiff that night, and his stomach kept on bubbling uncomfortably even though he wasn't hungry.

The eight am bus runs at an excruciatingly snail-like pace. Kyungsoo leans his head on the glass window for support.

He arrives an hour early for class. He passes by the snow-crusted hedge at the entrance, feeling lightheaded, and when he arrives to his classroom he collapses on his chair, groaning. Kyungsoo wonders if he should've stayed at home and wrapped himself up with heavy blankets until he felt better.

He then catches a whiff of a familiar, floral scent. He opens his eyes and sees for the first time on his desk a simple vase full of beautiful pink roses, the same variety he had seen atop the orchard's trellis. Kyungsoo feels a hand on his heart, squeezing it lightly.

The bell rings.

☀

The classes are a drone. He hasn't been looking forward to wearing out his throat on a lecture nobody seems to listen to, when everybody's heads are still adrift due the previous holiday.

From the inside, Kyungsoo can tell that the ground is blanketed with layers of snow. The wind is frigid and harsh, and would continue on until spring arrives.

Once in a while, Kyungsoo would glance back at the freshly cut roses, and wonder if the garden had survived the cold December.

The bell rings again at noon. A junior political science major hands him a box of chocolate crinkles after class, smiling shyly, and before Kyungsoo can utter his thanks the student has already excused herself to leave. Kyungsoo stares at it for a moment, perplexed.

"I see you've already got yourself a couple of fans."

Kyungsoo's spine goes ramrod straight at the voice. He decides to ignore it, hoping it would go away.

"Nice lecture by the way. I enjoyed it immensely."

Kyungsoo sighs in annoyance. "You should've taken a seat so that you wouldn't have just stood there. We wouldn't want that royal ass of yours get cramps, would we?"

Junmyeon laughs in delight. "God, I missed your snark." He slowly makes his way beside Kyungsoo's desk. "How was your Christmas?"

"Fine."

"You sure? Mine was horrible. I didn't have someone to help me pick out the lanterns that would go well on the front porch."

"Cried frosty tears, huh?" Kyungsoo retorts wearily. "Sorry, Junmyeon, but can you please leave? I'm not really in the mood to talk right now."

"Winter getting you down?"

 _You're getting me down_ , Kyungsoo bites back in his head. "I just need some space, please. Just go."

Junmyeon looks like he would argue for a second until he sighs, shoulders slumping. Suddenly, he kisses Kyungsoo's forehead.

"I hope you feel better, Kyungsoo," Junmyeon tells him. He claps Kyungsoo's shoulder and leaves.

Kyungsoo regroups in his seat, somehow feeling worse than he'd felt before. He props his head with his hand, elbow on the flat surface of his table. He settles with counting the petals on the roses, and he's glad that Junmyeon was too busy talking to him that he didn't notice the flowers by his desk. He wouldn't be able to explain how he got them.

There's a short burst of movement from his peripheral vision, and Kyungsoo turns to face the window. He catches nothing but the sight of a short, tangled mess of brown hair.

☀

The orchard has been slightly hidden with a thin veil of mist when Friday evening comes and the snowfall has considerably decreased. Kyungsoo enters the cavern and is surprised to find the garden incredibly warm and intact. He looks up to find that Jongin has installed a tight roofing system above the room, almost resembling the ones at a greenhouse.

Jongin sits cross-legged at a straw mat at the far end of the room, where a small patch of grass is starting to grow. “Some of the roses wilted because of the cold,” Jongin says quietly when Kyungsoo sits next to him. “I had to trough a couple of them and relocate them in rectangular stone containers.”

“That was very creative.”

“I had a lot of free time this break,” Jongin laughs but it tapers too quickly, making it sound unnatural.

“Oh, umm. Here.” Kyungsoo hands him a small box he’s been concealing inside his coat. “Happy birthday, Jongin.”

Jongin’s eyes go wide as he unravels the packaging, all the while mumbling that Kyungsoo shouldn’t have bothered to give him anything. Kyungsoo badly wants to encase him in a hug.

“You could use a new pair,” Kyungsoo tells him when Jongin takes the lid off, revealing two thick, utility gloves. “Your cotton ones already have a lot of holes in them.”

Jongin flutters in his seat. “Thanks, Kyungsoo. Did you like the roses?”

“Of course. They’re beautiful.” Jongin grins at him sideways, and Kyungsoo returns his smile. “Why don’t you try them on? I hope I got the right size…”

Jongin slips them on. They fit perfectly, his long fingers shimmying firmly against the durable cloth. “Nice,” Jongin beams.

Kyungsoo laughs quietly. “I’m glad you liked it –“

An electric shock jolts through Kyungsoo’s hand when Jongin laces his fingers around it, making him stop at mid-sentence. Jongin winks at him. “Nice grip,” he says coyly. “And it’s very warm.”

The air suddenly rushes out of Kyungsoo’s lungs, leaving him breathless. He cocks a questioning eyebrow at Jongin, and the latter laughs. He inclines his face forward, leaning his head against the wall.

“We’ll probably finish this project at the end of spring,” Jongin says after a moment’s silence.

Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything and instead looks down on their hands intertwined together.

“The last four months had been fun,” he prattles on.

“Right,” Kyungsoo chokes out.

Jongin sighs and closes his eyes. Kyungsoo follows his lead and squeezes his eyes shut, not letting go.

☀

Self-discovery is good for some, bad for others. February passes by quickly and lets March scootch her over, the Siberian winds making way for the budding of the flowers in early spring. Kyungsoo discovers that he has a _bad_ case of spring fever, and that Jongin has somehow managed to become even more handsome in a matter of weeks.

The symptoms are too obvious to ignore. Kyungsoo finds himself working as slowly as he possibly can, hoping to put off the day the landscaping of the garden finishes. He observes himself react unnaturally to the slightest graze of the skin, to the sound of his name tumbling out of Jongin’s lips. The fact that it hasn’t even been a year since his break-up with Junmyeon should bother him more than it does, but the fact that Jongin is his _friend_ seems like a much bigger problem in comparison. 

One day it cocks him on the head, swift and totally unexpected. The self-discovery isn’t a fuzzy feeling that warms his toes; more like a hard, heavy, aching _holy crap!_ kind of revelation that only comes once or twice in life. Kyungsoo isn’t sure if he’s capable of ending it when the time comes, since he’s not even sure when it all started.

Suddenly, Junmyeon is pushed back to the farthest corner of his consciousness until he slowly vanishes, and all he can see in his mind’s eye is Jongin, laughing wide, tap dancing against the layer of mulch, and planting azaleas.

Apparently, spring fever also causes delusions: he thinks that sometimes Jongin looks at him way too intensely, pokes fun at his narrow shoulders way too many times, lets his hands linger on his waist way too long. Every night he has to scold himself in front of the mirror while he brushes his teeth: _God, get over yourself. You deal with a hundred snotty brats everyday – why should you be scared of Jongin? Just because he kissed you before doesn’t mean he likes you._

March ends, and much to Kyungsoo’s dismay, the garden reaches completion way ahead of schedule. The two celebrate with soju and fish cakes. They toast underneath the moonlight, and Kyungsoo realizes that the spring fever would go on for a very, very long time.

☀

Kyungsoo thinks he’s been scaring Jongin lately, casually dropping in and out of the garden even in broad daylight. One day, when Kyungsoo’s feeling brave, he enters the orchard during his break and finds Jongin cross-legged on a set of cushions, eating his lunch with a confused expression on his face.

Kyungsoo can already hear the question in Jongin’s head. _It’s done, Kyungsoo. Why are you still sticking around?_

“Smells nasty,” Kyungsoo comments. “What is that?”

Jongin snorts, amused. “Oh, this? I cooked Hongeo. Wanna share?”

“Ugh,” Kyungsoo wrinkles his nose. 

And just like that, they’re all right. Jongin keeps up a constant stream of chatter the entire time: if he had taken up dancing when he ran away to the city, would he have made it big? If he had sang in a pub, would he be discovered by some entertainment agency and hired him on the spot? Kyungsoo watches as he eats and talks, memorizes the way his hands wave around when he follows a thought he’s missed somewhere when he’s explaining, and Kyungsoo wants to. He really wants to.

Except, Kyungsoo doesn’t know _exactly_ what he wants, but as he looks at Jongin puffing up his cheeks like a chipmunk, Kyungsoo thinks that it can’t really be that hard to figure out.

☀

The days pass, hazy and suspended, and Kyungsoo feels like he’s on a rollercoaster, when he knows he’s on the top and then suddenly everything descends so quickly that he forgets to catch his breath. Everything feels strange when he’s with Jongin, but at the same time it’s not. Sometimes he thinks he’s just watching from afar and it’s happening to somebody else.

“How are things with you and Junmyeon?”

And at that, the mood shifts.

Kyungsoo knows he shouldn’t sweep things under the rug this time. Jongin’s probably tired of Kyungsoo expending all the excuses he can muster. “We’re okay,” he says. “I mean, I think I’ve moved on, yeah.”

“That’s great. So there must be someone who has gotten through that cold heart of yours, right?”

More silence. Kyungsoo can’t bring himself to answer and just stares at the rosebush ahead – so much for bravery.

“Jongin –“ he starts. Maybe he can tell him now, ask Jongin if it’s okay to do more than just ‘hang around’.

Jongin looks expectantly at him. “Yes?”

“… Nothing,” Kyungsoo sighs. He feels the words eat him raw.

Jongin nods, looking slightly deflated. They don’t say anything after that.

☀

“It’s going,” Baekhyun moans, raising a cup to his mouth. He’s standing by the lounge window, his eyebrows scrunched together. 

“Get yourself a nice pair of glasses,” Kyungsoo advises. “Visit an optometrist.”

“And look as ghastly as you? Uhh, no thanks.”

Kyungsoo shrugs, not even considering trying again. Baekhyun must be in one of those crappy moods where the senior just can’t help but spread his misery all over the planet. 

“So,” Baekhyun crushes the paper cup in his hand. He throws it aside to a random direction – Kyungsoo wonders whether it’ll resurface at some point in the next century. “Jongin. What about that freak?”

Kyungsoo clenches his fist. _Freak?_ “What about Jongin?”

“It’s more than just dirt on your slacks now,” Baekhyun remarks, and Kyungsoo unconsciously blushes.

Baekhyun does a shrug and a vague wave of a hand. “I wouldn’t have thought of anything else, you know but – but it seems like you’re getting along pretty well. Don’t even deny that you’re seeing each other almost every Friday, because I know you are.”

Before Kyungsoo can manage a noise of protest, Baekhyun holds up his palm. “You know Oprah, right? That American talk show host? Well, you _could_ say I have that much-coveted Oprah gene.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Is Kim Jongin messing with your hormones right now?”

Kyungsoo makes another incoherent noise from the back of his throat. “What are you saying? Jongin and I are –”

“Friends?” Baekhyun replies, smile smug. “Like I said, Oprah gene. I can sense these things naturally. You hate talking about him, and you’re working exceptionally hard to ignore him on campus when there are other people around. That’s a good sign.”

“I don’t need an assessment, Baekhyun-ssi,” Kyungsoo snaps.

Baekhyun laughs, having fun at Kyungsoo’s reactions. “What? It’s the truth! That’s why human nature sucks. Jongin had always looked like he could use a friend or two, and coupled with his obvious looks, talent, and personality, he appealed to you greatly. That’s why you should better buck up, brother. There’s nothing wrong with loving again one more time.” 

There’s no reply. Kyungsoo can only glance up at Baekhyun, looking startled and embarrassed.

But Baekhyun isn’t finished. “And you _do_ know that Jongin is as bent as a person can be, right?” he rallies on. “Flag pole bowing down? Crooked as rickety lawn chairs?”

“I know,” Kyungsoo argues. “I know, he told me. But Jongin’s not the type to just go jumping on anyone who has a Y chromosome.”

Baekhyun grins in triumph. “Exactly.”

☀

They’ve both been quiet for hours. The sun is up and shining brightly, providing enough light for Kyungsoo to plow through seven chapters of a textbook he’s been going over for his lecture the next day. He highlights all the needed passages and ranks them all by importance. Jongin is sitting next to him, reading a paperback novel. 

Summer is closing in on them, and the roses are in full bloom, looking ethereal as the sunlight cascades all throughout the garden.

“Baekhyun-ssi’s been acting weird again today,” Kyungsoo breaks the silence after capping his highlighter.

Jongin chuckles. “He’s always like that ever since I worked here, but what did he say?”

“He said something about how human nature sucks, and that he has the Oprah gene.”

“Ahh, the infamous Oprah gene.” Jongin laughs harder this time. “Why? Did he lecture you about something again?”

“Not really. He just wants me to be brave and bold like other people are. Buck up,” Kyungsoo explains with a frown. “I’ll need all the luck I could get, probably.”

Jongin stares at him, looking thoughtful. “I don’t think you need to buck up, Kyungsoo. You’re fine just the way you are.”

There. Right there. That’s _exactly_ what Baekhyun is talking about.

“Um,” He blushes at the weight of Jongin’s stare. “You really don’t have to say those things, Jongin.”

“Why?” Jongin refuses to look away from him. “I mean it.”

Kyungsoo inhales. “You know that question you’ve asked before? About someone getting through my cold, ugly, unreasonable – “

“Heart? Yeah, I think I remember,” Jongin cuts in, slowly recognizing where the conversation is going. “But you really don’t have to answer it, you know? I was kidding when you asked me that – no, wait, I know we shouldn’t be joking about things like that. You don’t have to answer it right now and besides, you really don’t have to tell me… But…“ Jongin reads the expression forming on Kyungsoo’s face and stops there.

“Jongin, may I answer?”

Their hands are about a hair’s breadth from each other, but Kyungsoo feels that it’s the closest they’ve ever been. Jongin nods solemnly and pulls him closer, guiding their beating hearts.

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath.

☀


End file.
